Ripple Effect

by Jerald, Tracey

  Shit.

  “…being dragged from the bar down two flights of stairs to the pool deck—afraid to scream, afraid not to. Praying someone was finally coming to save us. Praying to die before if they weren’t.”

  God, Libby.

  “The moments of ‘worst’ began to bleed together. Food and water deprivation—not that I’d eat or drink anything after the way they’d slaughtered everyone. Then there was the sensory overload. We’d be blindfolded; then they’d take it off. Light and dark. The beatings we endured were terrifying. The thing is? It was nothing in comparison to what was in my mind.”

  “And what was in your mind?”

  “All my regrets. And giving up on my marriage was the biggest one. Over and over in the dark, I prayed Cal would find happiness one day.”

  And I’m done. I bury my head into the curve of my wife’s neck, feeling her courageous heart. But somehow, I manage to get out, “That never would have happened without you.”

  67

  Calhoun

  Year Six - Five Years Ago from Present Day October 23 0023 Hours GMT

  There’s barely enough light from the red glow in the transport carrying us to rendezvous with the destroyer in the Atlantic to make out the shapes of the bodies of the other people on my team. Some are doing a final check of their gear; some are sitting with their heads tipped back in the zone. All of them are probably thinking I shouldn’t be on this helo, that I’m a damn risk to each and every one of them. But there’s no way I’m going to sit on my ass waiting for information about Libby.

  Between my time in the Navy and my time working for Alliance, I’ve been on hundreds of missions with some of the men and women in this bird. Not a single one holds the importance this one does because I failed at being a husband long ago.

  Holding up my hand, I finally realize the moment for what it is—my truth serum. Even though I never was susceptible to that shit in my training, I understand now how others can be. The way your heart starts pumping into overdrive; the urgency to talk to anyone about anything because if you don’t, your mind is going to go crazy.

  The most important uniform I’ve ever worn is the band on the third finger of my left hand. The most critical vows are those I spoke in front of my friends and family tying my life to my wife’s. And the most treasured promise is the one that came along with telling Libby I love her.

  The tragedy is having to fly a thousand miles in the middle of a nightmare to admit everything everyone’s been saying to me about her is right. I mistook Libby, soft and sweet, as someone who needed to be sheltered and coddled. She needed my protection, my strength.

  The reality is just because her core of steel is hidden beneath a blanket of softness makes it no less strong. I should know. How many times since the day the papers ending my marriage were served to me have I tried to talk to her? Most notably, when I tried to corner her at Deja Vu where Libby stood in front of me calmly telling me she didn’t “give a damn about me and my reasons. Take them, and Iris, and go find somewhere to fuck them both,” right before she slammed the door to her office in my face.

  How did I not realize she had to be as strong as me to withstand a “businessman” who’d take off for parts of the world unknown for indeterminate amounts of time. And not once, until she wanted to surprise me on our anniversary, did her faith in me waver. Libby’s love was steadfast until she was certain mine wasn’t. My surprise shouldn’t be that she filed for divorce, but that she didn’t want a damn thing from me.

  Then again—my hands clench into fists in the dark, my wedding ring pinching beneath the glove on my left hand for the first time—I know why she didn’t. Anything she asked for would require her to be bound to me.

  Memories of the week I was served my divorce papers two months ago bombard me as the whomp-whomp-whomp of the blades take us closer to our destination.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, Cal, but you’re a fucking idiot if you don’t find a way to fight this,” Sam told me.

  I shoved off the couch in the common room and yelled, “Don’t you think I know that? For God’s sake, Sam, she’s the best part of my life.”

  Iris regarded me coolly. “We’ve all heard that, Cal, but you never let her in. And you had plenty of time to.”

  I shook my head. “She can’t handle this kind of life,” I protested. “Just because I’m protecting her doesn’t mean I don’t love her.”

  “It means you’re a damned fool,” she growled at me. “The Elizabeth Sullivan who I just encountered isn’t weak; she’s a woman. And women in love are the strongest and most dangerous creatures on the planet. We’ll do anything to nurture those we love, and we’ll do anything to harm those who threaten them.” Iris rubbed her cheek.

  I still can’t believe my wife took a swing at her. “I apologize again…” But Iris cut me off.

  “Do you have any idea what I’d do if I thought Sam was screwing around on me? If she ever forgives any of us for this, I’m going to have to teach her to hit though; she hurt herself in the process.” Iris glared at me like this is my fault, not the imagination of my wife. My ex-wife if she gets her way.

  Which she won’t.

  “We’re bound by an oath…” I started to say, but before I got another word out, my partner and his wife were laughing in my face.

  “And you could have got her cleared, Cal.” Sam’s face sobered up. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” he began.

  “Is there going to be a right way?” I interjected.

  “Probably not,” he admitted. “But you liked having the extra excitement of the dual life. It kept your adrenaline up when the missions were over.”

  “That’s a damned lie!” I shouted.

  “Then tell me why you’ve been married for six years and your wife still has no fucking clue what it is we do?” Sam shouted back. “Businessmen? What the fuck do we sell?”

  Swiping up the bottle on the table, I drank from it long and well before answering, “Ourselves. So people like my wife can have their dreams and never realize this country is constantly in danger.”

  Sam exhaled harshly before turning his back to me. “Yeah.”

  Iris wasn’t quite done though. “The woman who’s my daughter’s godmother just told me to go to hell, Cal. And that’s entirely on you. If you’d told her—”

  “Then what? Every time I’d have left, Libby would have panicked!”

  “But at least she’d still be in your bed and not being hit on over the strawberries because she’s not wearing her wedding rings anymore.” With that final blow, Iris stormed out of the room.

  The emotional pain that tore through me was worse than the physical wound I suffered when I’d had to dive for cover when we were taking fire during an extraction and my ACL got jacked.

  I’d told Libby I was playing a pickup game of basketball with my coworkers.

  Her gentle teasing of “Cal, honey, you need to stop thinking you’re in your late twenties. One of these days, time isn’t going to be on your side.” All while she baked blueberry cheesecake, something that made everyone at Alliance practically weep in pleasure when I brought the leftovers in a few days later.

  Back then, I scoffed at the idea time was passing by. Now, I’d give anything to live in my memories instead of the present.

  Because in about an hour, the helo I’m in is about to land to go assist in a hijacking being broadcast around the world.

  One which involves my wife.

  68

  Calhoun

  Year Six - Five Years Ago from Present Day October 23 0800 Hours GMT

  Tensions are high on the Lassen. And it’s a safe guess that mine probably account for 50 percent of them in the conference room we’re all crowded in despite the SEAL team taking their fair share of space.

  Lieutenant Parker Thornton, SEAL team leader, slams his fist down on the table. “We have no eyes and no ears. What the hell are we going into?”

  I shove off the wall. Flicking my thumb at Sam, I grow
l, “That’s why we’re here, Lieutenant. There isn’t anything Akin can’t hack into, including the Sea Force. He’ll get you the eyes and ears you need. We’re not waiting on permission.”

  His eyes narrow before he says, “Jurisdiction?”

  “We have it.”

  “When did it come in?” His voice holds a note of disbelief. International jurisdiction is a bitch, and right now, there’s a battle happening in Washington over it.

  “It came in from the moment I found out my fucking wife is on that boat.” Thornton’s jaw tightens. I slam my open palm down on the conference table. “We’ve never worked under the same rules you boys have. We’ll get you the evidence you need for orders. You just spend the time in between polishing up your knives and guns to be ready to move the minute the brass gives you your go orders.”

  Pointing a finger at me, Thornton accuses, “Jesus, you’re trying to get us all court-marshaled with that attitude, Sullivan. We can’t just do a snatch and grab of your wife; there’s two hundred lives we need to account for. We need to know who we’re fighting against. Fuck, we’re FUBARed before we go in if this is the kind of support you’re planning on providing.”

  Leaning in close, I bite out, “We’ve covered your ass more times than you care to admit, Thorn. I know what the damn mission is. We’re not going to let you down now.” Especially not now.

  “It’s not your team I’m worried about,” he insinuates.

  Yeah, well, I have to give him that one. It’s not my team I’m worried about either. I just continue to hold his stare until he scrubs his hand up and down over his face. “Don’t give me a reason to have you pulled, Cal.”

  With a tight nod, I turn away. “Just lead us to the bridge. We’ll get everyone eyes and ears within the next few hours.”

  “Right.” Turning to the captain of the Lassen, who’s been letting our pissing match go back and forth without a word, Thorn gives his approval. “Alliance is on the bridge. My men will use the HUMINT provided to plan and strategize against the hijackers. We’ll spin up possible attack options against the Sea Force while preventing the hijackers’ escape.”

  I interject at this point. “Remember, our goal is to take out the bogey with the least amount of lives lost. Taking the hijackers alive is the secondary objective.”

  Thorn says matter-of-factly, “To you. But it is a mission objective to be considered.” Around the table, his team agrees silently by nodding.

  “Not at the cost of the civilian lives,” I shout. My team pushes off the wall.

  The captain stands. “In this case, let’s wait for the intel to point us in the direction we need to be going, men. Alliance, follow me. Let’s get you up on the bridge.” As he turns away, I hear him mutter, “Before any blood is spilled on my own damn ship.”

  Silently, every member of my team follows the captain out of the room. I’m the last to cross over the hatch when I hear Thorn call out, “Cal?”

  I pause with my back to him. “Yeah?”

  “We know what’s at stake. This is a potential disaster. You need to be prepared for it.” The words are brutal, but I still turn around to face Thorn.

  “Do you think anything could prepare me for what’s happening, whether I was sitting at home or here?”

  “No. But right now, bury your emotions, Cal.”

  I give him a humorless smile. “Don’t you know, Thorn? That’s what got me into this mess in the first place.” Quickly, I move out of sight and nod to the patiently waiting captain. “Let’s do this.”

  69

  Elizabeth

  Year Six - Five Years Ago from Present Day October 23 1000 Hours GMT

  Every time someone leaves the room, they don’t come back.

  If I used my fingers and toes, I could count all of us. At least all that I can see. And meanwhile I cling to Linc’s hand whenever I can. I’d do it more frequently if I wasn’t terrified they’d rip him away from me too.

  We’re bound with our hands behind our backs, ankles tied, and forced to sit blindfolded in the center of the room. I only knew how many people we started with because I heard them say “Ventitré.”

  When I murmured that to Linc, he told me quietly, “That’s Italian for twenty-three. God, Elizabeth, if that’s all that’s left…”

  That was the first time he grabbed my fingers with such a sharp pain, I almost gasped aloud. Because it meant the chance that his wife was likely not among the survivors. My tears were absorbed by my blindfold as I whispered back, “Libby. Everyone who cares about me calls me Libby.”

  “Silenzio!” was shouted at us.

  So, we stayed quiet. Waiting.

  “Captain.” Alessio’s dark voice comes out of the dark. Both Linc and I tense. “If you would come with me, please.”

  “No,” the captain bites back.

  “I see. A pity.” Suddenly, there’s a strangled sound from where, I don’t know. The blindfold has distorted my sense of direction. “Give us a moment, Diego, then remove the blindfolds of our guests.”

  “Of course, Alessio.” Another name, another voice. And soon, I’ll be able to put a face to it.

  Not that it will do me any good.

  Long moments go by. I reach behind me and squeeze Linc’s fingers as boots approach. I let them go just in time as my blindfold is ripped from my head. Tears immediately appear as the sunlight streams into my face. “Daylight,” I whisper.

  “Silenzio!” Diego barks down at me. Tipping my head back hurts from the hit I took earlier, but I do. I recognize the man with the gun as the one who hit Linc. “Quiet! No talking!” I nod and quickly look down so I become more adjusted to the light.

  A few minutes later, I hear shrieking screams. I begin to pant heavily. “You turn. You look!” Diego shouts.

  Now, as much as the dark hampered me, I almost wish for it back. The blindfold would have saved me from watching as the captain is shoved in front of Alessio and the enormous glass window by one of the kitchen staff who danced around the first night waving his napkin.

  Alessio knocks on the window with his gun. “Come, Diego. It is time to show our prisoners what happens when they don’t obey orders!” His muffled voice sounds cheerful.

  Diego lets out a bark of laughter. “You all watch. Watch or same happens.”

  We do. Those of us who are left watch as the naked, bloodied captain begs for his life. He begs, he pleads, he rescinds his offer not to help.

  And they still shoot him.

  Before kicking him over the side of the deck.

  My stomach roils. Bile comes up in my mouth. I heave a little, but Linc hisses—just before Diego stalks back into the Titan Bar, with an almost cheerful look on his face—“Swallow it down, Libby. Don’t make them take you next. I wouldn’t be able to stand it. Do. You. Hear. Me?”

  I give an imperceptible nod. I swallow the acidic taste down, apologizing profusely to my precious child for the horror it is suffering.

  And I’m praying with all my might that Cal understood my last message; I hope he understood I want him to be happy and that I love him in the event I never get to tell him.

  70

  Calhoun

  Year Six - Five Years Ago from Present Day October 23 1100 Hours GMT

  The first mission after Libby and I moved in together involved intelligence gathering in a savagely brutalized village in an African country. After witnessing the atrocities done to the women by not only the men of the village but by their male children, I came home practically homicidal. I couldn’t go straight back to Libby’s and my home. For days, I lay in my bunk in the training barracks staring into nothing as teams were deployed to God only knows where, afraid of what would happen if I went home and touched the woman I loved.

  If I think back, it was likely that first mission after we were an “us” that solidified when I realized I could never, would never tell her that I wasn’t just working for just a government contractor now. I knew I would have to compartmentalize my life and keep my work away
from my soul. I needed to keep Libby’s perception of the world as untouched as the sunflowers I compared her smile to. And yet it was my duty to never let her know mine was hiding the filth they grew in.

  But now, as I stand on deck with a pair of binoculars focused on the yacht holding my wife captive in the distance, I wonder if I should have gone home? If I should have let her know who exactly the man was she was going to be married to. Was it worth saving her from worry? Was it worth the hell we’re both going through right now?

  Because even though she thinks she doesn’t know me anymore, I know her. While Libby might be sporting a few lines of worry and maybe some gray hairs, she’d still have her smile.

  What she wouldn’t be doing is suffering at the hands of captors.

  She’d be at home safe. And I’d be free from the horror that’s choking me with every breath I take.

  71

  Elizabeth

  Year Six - Five Years Ago from Present Day October 23 1700 Hours GMT

  I didn’t understand the true meaning of pain until hours passed staring at the sunlight reflecting off the ocean, reliving each moment of my life. Instead of unlimited moments to pretend I’ll be okay, life is whittling down to regrets. My hope is dwindling as fast as the sun begins to set on the horizon. Devastatingly fast and yet not fast enough.

  It’s all just a matter of time.

  I pull my knees up as close as I can to my chest, despite the burn it causes in my shoulders. My hair falls forward, giving me a shield for just a moment. I know it won’t last long; I’ll likely pay for it, but I need it. I sneak a peek to make sure Linc is still breathing.